


Divergence

by Lupo (LupoLight)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues, Memory Related, Multi, POV Upgraded Connor | RK900, reed900RBB, reed900reversebigbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LupoLight/pseuds/Lupo
Summary: Definitions of divergence:1: a drawing apart (as of lines extending from a common center)2: DIFFERENCE, DISAGREEMENT3: a deviation from a course or standardWritten for the Reed900RBB! Shoutout to my artist(Screaming_Ferret/ohacalamity) for the wonderful art that inspired this!
Relationships: Tina Chen/ST300 Android(s), Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38
Collections: Reed900 Reverse Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my artist's twitter post here! >>> ( https://twitter.com/__ohcalamity___/status/1328064617961152514 )
> 
> Thank you to DP and Stujet on the discord for beta-reading this for me, as well as the wonderful mods that ran the event! This is one of two works I've done for it, and I am really happy with how this turned out!

[System Initialization: Complete]

[System Integrity: Under Review]

[C̷̃͝or̴̯̓ru̵̅̾p̷̃͒ti̸̽̓on̸̾͐ ̶̂̏I̴̐̚n̶̍̏ ̴̼̅M̷͘e̷̹͠mo̷̾͋ry̴̍̔ ̴̛̑C̸̖͘ỏ̵̝re̸̹̓:̸̓̚ 93%]

[Access: Y/N?]

The room was _bright_ , with a smell that was oddly medical yet mechanical at the same time. The distance _vrr_ of machines throughout the building, plus the sheer amount of equipment in this room had suggested one thing.

This was a place to be repaired. It was not Cyberlife. The prompt in his vision was briefly looked over with a flash of disdain, and he hit no.

[Process Suspended. Action: ...]

[ >> Clear corruption ]

With that taken care of, he let himself fully run diagnostics. He knew a few things. He was RK900, he was a deviant, and some time had passed since his original activation date. A year and some months actually. RK900 huffed at that, annoyed by the continuity error. Why did he have a blank slate to work off of then? There were also a number of updates to his partially corrupted personality core, and physical changes as well. An itemized list popped up, and he was so _confused_ as to why he’d ever need half of these.

Deviancy was weird.

  
  


Before the questions could root in his head, another figure stepped in. His face was bright, cheerful, in the way a loyal dog was after seeing a favorite human. A scan revealed this to be his predecessor, ‘Connor’ RK800. “Oh! You’re awake finally!” There was a brief pause as yellow circled quickly, once. “I’ve alerted the technicians. How do you feel, RK900?” 

Looking at himself, the arms of the machine he was attached to still holding him, a multitude of responses came to him. Some seemed oddly… Sarcastic? Emotional. He didn’t know why. He settled with something calm, resolved to take a look at his system once the corruption lowered. “I could be better. I am at a loss as to why I’m here.”

  
  


Connor’s face fell, a brief microexpression lesser androids would never have caught unless they were laser focused on the other. But then he reset to that ever so polite, bright look. “It’s just some repairs after an accident at work. How much do you remember?”

“Nothing.” The answer was definitely the wrong one, as Connor’s eyes widened and his smile became strained. He saw the swallow and they both knew he reacted, yet Connor continued. _‘Why?’_ “I am aware a considerable amount of time has passed since my initial activation, but that is it.”

“Oh… I- Ahm.” Connor took a breath, stabilizing himself his system told him, corrupted text reminding him of the action. “It’s alright. Maybe your memory will come back with time. The technicians said there was a good bit of coding that they couldn’t touch, but that you should be able to deal with?”

  
  


RK900 nodded to that, moving his arms free of their binds when Connor released him. “It’s begun the process of clearing the corruption now, but there is a considerable chunk.” Despite social protocol deeming a sympathetic response to Connor’s obvious upset reaction, he didn’t want to. 

[N̵͔̻̿͋ev̸̱̀̎er̶̹̼͗͛ ̶̲̆s̴̩͉̀ay̴̡̙ ̶̲̕ș̶̨͑͘oṙ̷̺̬͌ry̵̥̿ ̸̧̧͗̏i̷͔͓͊͒f ̷͇͗͗ẏ̵̮̬̉ou̴̘̙͛ do̶̻̘̎n’t̴̻̀ ̷̲̻̑̚m̴̛͉͔̔eä̷̫̰́n̵͉͛ ̶̯̼͒i̸͙̾ͅt.]

He got annoyed with the text pretty quickly, and swiped it away. “That’s good! Well, let me update you. Cyberlife isn’t in control of anything, because the revolution happened. We’re free to do as we please! You do have a job, you’re a detective, with me, at the DPD. You do have a new assignment, due to some changes in the precinct, so you’ll be working on your own…” Connor paused, his LED turning golden and his stress ticked up three percent. “For the foreseeable future.”

  
  


That news had his system rioting in a way he couldn’t process. Corrupted text broke free of the soft lock on it, and he was flooded with jumbled letters and symbols. His own temple glowed a furious red at the spam, and when he got it cleaned up, two stubborn words remained glued to the top. Small, easy to ignore at least.

[Ṣ̵̟͋͐om̵̱̒e̵̮͈͂̇on̴̺̈́͜e̴̠̻͋'̷̥̍’s M̵̬̈́̀ï̴͖ͅš̷̞̩si̶̲̔͘ng̷͐ͅ]

  
  


“Understood, I’m assuming that’s what I’m to do now? Return to work?” Connor nodded, and motioned for 900 to follow him.

“Yes, and do you have a preference for what to be called?”

“900 works fine. As far as I know, only a limited number of my model made it to production before the whole of Cyberlife was shut down?”

“Correct! There’s still production going on but... That’s a whole topic that doesn’t need to be brought up.” Connor sounded sour, so he let it drop, not really caring either. They entered a car together, 900 looking back at the building to see that it was indeed a repair center, ran by _Jericho_.

  
  


A quick scan revealed that it was the revolution party for androids, and now ran most things android related. Which made sense. He turned back to Connor, entering the car and listening to a voice listing off their location. “You do have a place to go to at night, you should have the keys on your person. If you need any help adjusting, I’m here for you 900. I know you probably don’t remember, but I’d like to say we were close.”

Connor sounded sad, refusing to look over, as if there was more to say. 900 wished for a moment he remembered, and he looked at the corruption. Still stuck where it was, there was no chance for that anytime soon. “I’d like to consider you a friend already. At least you were here to receive me,” he offered instead, and he found he couldn’t force a smile as easily as Connor did. 

Still the man seemed ecstatic with that, nodding quickly. “Good! And of course I was! That was the least I could do for you.”

  
  


The rest of the car ride was quiet, Connor picked out some metal music, which 900 found he didn’t care too much for. It was similar to something he could faintly recall, like a phantom hum in the back of his head, but it wasn’t to his tastes, that was for sure. When they finally got in, Connor led him into the elevator, past reception.

He noticed how people looked at him, wide eyes or pursed lips and heavy swallows. He couldn’t figure out why, or really care. A mission directive landed under the glitched text, [Return to work] simple and clear. It put him at ease, even as he was led into a somewhat quiet bullpen. Again, the feeling of something not being _right_ tugged at his wires in a way that was unpleasant at best. 

“Ok! Here’s your desk 900. You should find everything easily, do you want to know anything else?” He shook his head, sitting down and noticing that there was a white jacket on the back of his chair already. He had to assume it was his, there was nothing else on the desk besides a tablet with his latest case on it. He was already connected to the terminal, and brought it up with ease.

  
  


“No, I’ll be good. Thank you for everything Connor, I will notify you if I run into anything.” He offered a nod, again unable to smile easily. He tried, but he could see the way Connor’s mood dampened again at the attempt. 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. He did his job, he was efficient, and that was pleasant. He liked it, he liked being able to successfully find and arrest a suspect within a day back. As he sat down, his mouth opened, and he found the want to tell someone. But there was no one, and he blinked at the odd reaction. Filing it away, he continued, taking on another case that required a little more waiting time.

He wouldn’t complete it before the time to clock out popped up, but that was fine. When he stood up, he looked at the jacket. It was plain white, with the blue triangle of Jericho’s symbol on its back and black accents. He wanted to grab it, by all reasoning it was his jacket, but it didn’t feel right. He liked his current attire anyways- just a black button up and black pants. It felt simple. It felt right.

  
  


He left the jacket and returned to the address on his file. It was an apartment building, not a very good neighborhood when he looked into it, and he made a face at that. He should’ve been able to afford better, right? He shook his head at the thought and walked in, glad to not meet anyone else in the lobby as he entered the elevator. At least it was mostly quiet, no loud music anywhere, and as he got to his apartment, the door’s security was pleasantly difficult. He got in, making sure to lock behind himself, and then was greeted with a noise.

Two sets of soft meows, walking further into the apartment to find the source of the noise. There was a pure black cat, his yellow eyes wide and voice loud. He didn’t approach 900, but he meowed in an obvious plea for attention from his perch on the back of the leather sectional. Then there was a silver tabby, slowly approaching him with soft _mieu_ ’s. Her chassis leg and exposed facial plate around her replaced eye portrayed her android status to him bluntly, and he was surprised that she rubbed against him.

“Well, hello.” He reached down, rubbing against her head, and noticing an attempt to interface. This had to be his cat, but yet he didn’t want to accept a foreign interface. “Not today little one.” He couldn’t spot collars on either of them, and despite the sour feeling, he messaged Connor for their names. “Ah. Ok, Doa, would you like something to eat?”

  
  


He walked into the open air kitchen, and noticed immediately that there were definitely signs of another person living here besides himself. Besides food being in the fridge along with Bastard’s, _‘I did not name a cat Bastard’_ , there were signs of the coffee pot and espresso machine being well used, and little notes on the fridge of things that needed replaced in a writing that wasn’t his.

It irked him, but he figured that it would be fine. His past self had to have some common sense, he was probably living with someone he trusted at least somewhat. With both cats given their food, amused with the thirium based pellets for Doa, he resolved to look around the house for a charging station of some sort. 

It was all incredibly foreign yet _home_ -y feeling. Modern furniture, wooden floors, grey walls with splashes of navy in the curtains and rugs. Despite two cats, it was pretty clean. However, it wasn’t hard to find a portable recharge station in the closet. He looked back the hallway, seeing three more doors, and set it as a task to look back there tomorrow.

  
  


He sat down on the couch, the quiet leaving the cats restless, so he turned the tv on, blinking at the show already on. It was familiar, in a way that suggested he must’ve watched it before, but not familiar enough to truly remember. When he checked his corruption, it went down a whole three percent, evenly at ninety now. He plugged in and then relaxed on the couch, letting stasis claim him.

He woke up the next morning and there was an odd feeling of something missing. [Ṣ̵̟͋͐om̵̱̒e̵̮͈͂̇on̴̺̈́͜e̴̠̻͋'̷̥̍’s M̵̬̈́̀ï̴͖ͅš̷̞̩si̶̲̔͘ng̷͐ͅ] It blinked at him once, but then went back to its faded position. _‘Right.’_ He stood up, checking that he wasn’t too covered in cat hair. He remembered seeing a roller in the kitchen so he went and grabbed it, taking care of himself after petting Doa and Bastard a couple times.

He decided cats weren’t that bad. Neither really did anything besides make noise for attention, and then they did their own thing. It was nice, relaxing even. He hadn’t found a litterbox yet, but that was a task for later. He got his keys and locked everything behind him, turning to meet one of his neighbors finally.

  
  


The man was surprisingly an android, an older teacher model. His orange undercut hair and freckles would’ve looked friendly if he didn’t have more piercings than a notebook. “Oh hey… Great to see you.” His narrowed eyes and sarcastic tone suggested otherwise, and he didn’t know why, but he was marked as hostile already. A scan revealed his name to be Kyle, and he didn’t know why the name made him straighten up a little.

“Good morning.” He made sure to keep his response curt and polite anyways, and it obviously surprised Kyle.

“What, no quip today?”

“I don’t see the point?” If anything, he was happy that someone else looked confused for once. He left the man on that note, and headed into the elevator. It wasn’t as quiet now. A few times it stopped, someone greeting him with a _‘hello!’_ or a _‘good morning!’_ as they stepped in. He noticed most of them were androids, with the exception of one human, which then the elevator shifted.

He was slightly amused that all the androids stood on the other side of him, and the human eyed him warily as well. His chin raised just a bit at that.

  
  


They all left in a group, though 900 waited for the other androids to safely drive off before calling his cab. He was still early, and there were no familiar faces to him. Though he supposed the same couldn’t be said in reverse. Now that he was actively looking, he noticed the same tense look in all the faces. A glance, and then quickly looking away. Or a forlorn expression only for their eyes to drop.

Then there were the few that looked at him with what his systems described as _fear_. And that- for some reason- stung. It shouldn’t have, but it did. He couldn’t remember what he did to garnish that reaction, and then ran over his build.

Right, even by android standards, he was somewhat of an oddity. Built for combat and detective work, meant as an end-all to any threat. Yet he thought deviancy meant he could be more than that? It was something to ponder on, but he sat down, looking over at Connor and Hank when they came in.

  
  


“Good morning 900! Did you find your place alright?” 900 nodded, noticing how the lieutenant refused to look at him.

“I did. I wasn’t expecting the cats, but they are favorable company.” He had other questions. Why it seemed like someone else lived with him, why his neighbors were mostly androids in a neighborhood like that, why everyone was behaving so skittish around him. He didn’t ask them, not right now at least. “Should I be doing anything else?”

Connor shook his head, polite but not giving 900 any answers either. “Not that I know of! I know that you had- complained- about the neighbor across from you before, so be careful around him I suppose.” 900 frowned, looking to his terminal and the empty one across from him.

[Ṣ̵̟͋͐om̵̱̒e̵̮͈͂̇on̴̺̈́͜e̴̠̻͋'̷̥̍’s M̵̬̈́̀ï̴͖ͅš̷̞̩si̶̲̔͘ng̷͐ͅ]

  
  


“Do I live with someone else?” It was a yes or no question, and it irked him. Connor stiffened at it, and he knew it risked their friendship, whatever that was built upon, but it was bothering him.

“You do… You do live with someone else but- they’re not around right now.” Looking at Connor, his voice was tight, and his face stiff, not even a forced smile. Just a pained expression, eyes cast onto the desk across from him, empty. “You won’t have to worry about that for- for a while. But you did live with someone, so don’t worry about that.” 900 dropped the topic, seeing Connor’s stress levels rise several percentages.

“Thank you. I was making sure I was in the right house.” He nodded, and his system was eased, though alight with curiosity as well.

  
  


Connor didn’t say anything else, just sitting down, so 900 went about his work. Everyone avoided him, with the exception of the one receptionist, as he was leaving. The girl was an ST300, soft brown eyes, pulled back hair- rather attractive if 900 was honest. Which was- amusing. That he was able to make that decision for himself. “Hey uh-”

“900,” he answered for her, noticing she paused for what to call him. He wondered if he had another moniker, as her face did an odd pucker at the name.

“900, right- well hey, it’s been a while since we talked, and I know you may not remember it at all- but I just wanted to say, if you ever wanna talk, I’d love to listen.” She was friendly, and yet confident, and 900 felt like she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  
  


“I will take you up on that offer. I would like to- reorient myself with my surroundings first, but perhaps later in the week we can meet up to talk?” She nodded, giving him a smile.

“Look forward to it! The name’s Stacey, it’s nice to meet you again, 900.” _Meet you again._ It was so… Not painful, but yet there was a tension in his chest. He checked the corruption, seeing it at eighty-eight now.

“Nice to meet you again as well, Stacey.” He left at that, entering the automatic. He hummed as music played through the speaker, some kind of soft pop. He looked up the artist, finding the music pleasant, and continued to play more of that. It was familiar, but in the same way just a bit off. But he ignored that, just enjoying what he recently discovered.

  
  


Going inside, there was no one to greet him, and he preferred it that way. He fed the cats, petting them longer, and turning on the tv much quicker. He settled for the news channel, seeing some kind of prime time show on it, and then started checking through the fridge. He began to clean up, emptying what was rotten out of the fridge, and finding thirium based foods in there in the process. A whole shelf seemed dedicated to him, a lot of things labeled _‘Forbidden Blueberry’_ in his own handwriting.

Picking up one bottle, it was actually lemonade, and he smiled at the note. It was cute, and it obviously meant whomever he did live with had a sense of humor. And that he did too, at once. He hoped to achieve that again. Tasting the drink though, his nose immediately wrinkled at the pure sour of the lemon.

He messaged Connor, eyeing the amount of lemon flavored things he had. _[Connor, hello, do you think tomorrow we could perhaps go through and try flavored thirium out? I’ve found lemon flavored thirium in this fridge and it’s a bit… Too sour? At least for now._ ]

  
  


His message was immediately received, and he wondered what drew him to the flavor. It wasn’t that it was bad, but he didn’t want to settle on lemon just because he was assuming it was what he liked before. _[Sure 900! I can bring sample bottles, it’s alright to branch out!]_

He didn’t know why he rolled his eyes at the unneeded encouragement, but it brought a smile to his face. He was alone, he didn’t have to worry about making someone wince from his smile here. _[Thank you Connor. See you tomorrow.]_

Pushing everything to the side, he did see a few things for himself that weren’t lemon. They were cinnamon and coffee flavored, and that didn’t even sound pleasant right now. Yet, he had them. _‘Why?’_

  
  


He left them there, and then took the trash out, coming up to look at the doors in the hallway. The first one had a cat door installed, so he peaked in, finding a nice bathroom. The tub took up the back wall, and there was a small sink and toilet. Not much room because of the tub/shower combo, but there were wall-mounted shelving units that were neatly organized. Everything was maximum space usage, without being cluttered. He did notice a litter box in the attached closet, and changed it before looking around.

It was even more obvious two people lived here. There were beach and ocean based scents, and then there were cocoa butter and a coffee bar. Sniffing the coffee bar, he was reminded of the upgrade that improved his olfactory senses. It was a pleasant scent, but he put everything back. It didn’t bother him much what he smelled like, he was sure at least having that similarity would calm some people.

He was highly amused to find shaving utensils, and wondered just what kind of person he lived with. He shook the thought out of his head- he’d figure it out. He was a detective android afterall. The next room was bigger, but yet it wasn’t a bedroom. He pieced together he must’ve either shared the bedroom, or slept on the couch.

  
  


Instead, this room seemed like a weird mix of a work room and a hobby room. There was a messy work desk in the corner, beside the window with a mounted touchscreen monitor. There was some workout equipment as well, and then there was the corner near the door that held some drawers. Beside them, a keyboard held up a guitar, and both looked well used. 

He stepped in, noticing the mess on top of the drawers first. There were some cat toys, and as he went through the drawers, he figured out it was mostly stuff that didn’t fit in the closet. Cat stuff, an android repair kit, several sheets of chassis for himself, a first aid kit, and then another kit of some type that 900 didn’t fully understand. There was a locked box as well, in the bottom shelf, and he couldn’t find the key for it. Leaving it where he was, he had to assume it was the other resident’s.

Sorting everything, he moved past the equipment to the desk. Again, the mess irked him, frowning at the disarray. The chair was kicked back, tilted, braced against the wall and almost had been pushed onto its back.

  
  


He looked at the papers and noticed it was layouts for a building, notes scribbled all over it. _‘They can’t have enough room, there’s more here.’_ _‘We didn’t see windows on this side, were they replaced?’ ‘No fire alarms?’_

It was thorough at least, and he looked through the rest of the files, trying to figure out whatever had been driving his roommate frantic. The info blurb that his roommate had to be another officer quickly popped up, as they were mainly reports of patrols around the area. Still, besides reported gang activity, he couldn’t figure out the obsession. He let it go, properly filing it and stacking it to the side.

His movements alerted the terminal, breaking it from the screensaver mode and revealing… A pinboard of photos. It was obviously the background for the terminal, yet the photos were interactable- saved to the computer. And they were _familiar_. Because it was him, and another man, in almost all of them. The one of him was smiling, amused, and he felt himself mirror the expression. Just him. There was another of a concert, and another of him, this man, and several others in a bar.

  
  


Then there was one photo of this man, stubble on his face and a prominent scar across his nose. Grey eyes glittered with amusement, and he grinned despite the cut on his lip. He was covered in bruises and small cuts, yet he was laying in a pool of plastic balls, a tattered brown jacket around him. When he touched the photo, he realized that _he_ took it. Not even that long ago, less than two months. 

He scanned the man in the photo, getting a slew of information. _‘Detective Gavin Reed. Employed at Central Precinct of the DPD. Currently on medical leave. Known address…’_ 900 blinked as he realized this was the man he lived with. Connor’s words came back to him, _“They’re not around right now.”_

He wondered why Connor was so reluctant to just say his roommate was on medical leave. Shaking his head, he reduced it to some deviant problem, and looked through the rest of the photos. Despite seeing himself, none of it felt familiar. It was like looking at someone else’s life entirely, someone else who knew Detective Reed. Who knew all these people. It hurt, in the weirdest way, but he ignored it.

  
  


It was too much and he could feel his system strain against corruption trying to force through. So he finished up cleaning and went back into the living room, sitting down on the couch and curling up with the silver tabby. As he started stasis, he saw corruption at eighty-six.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days were the same. He met up with Stacey, finding her company rather fun. He met up with her girlfriend, Tina Chen.  _ That _ was an experience. It took several tries to just talk with her, without her reacting- 900 wanted to say she was upset with him. He asked why, but Stacey only told him that she was reminded of someone else.

900 didn’t have to be aware for long to know that meant how he used to be. Despite it, they eventually got to hang out, spending a weekend out at a karaoke bar.

However, 900 learned a lot of things about himself in a week. He liked grapes- it was weird, but the sourness was nice, and it made Connor amused that it was something similar to both lemons and blueberries, his own favorite. When Chen caught him with a grape drink, she even lightened up for a moment to make a pun.

  
  


He also learned he rather liked puns, if the surprised laugh he discovered that day meant anything. For some reason, he felt himself checking everyone’s reaction to his laugh, but there wasn’t one. He relaxed immediately, smiling with the others. He also learned he liked soft pop and rap, and after a shopping trip with the girls, the color purple.

[Some̵̮͈͂̇on̴̺̈́͜e’s M̵̬̈́̀ï̴͖ͅš̷̞̩si̶̲̔͘ng]

Yet the message remained. It got a little less corrupted, but 900 couldn’t remove it. He found himself looking at the desk across him, missing something, an emptiness in his chest. He ran through his cases quickly, and deciding it would be polite, after their weekend out he looked into Detective Reed’s cases. Medical leave was now two weeks and going.

  
  


His cases were similar to the ones 900 worked on, and they were easy to finish up. That’s when the first bits of corruption broke loose. Memories, pieces, of working on the cases, would come back to him. Another voice, too static filled to make out, would guide him through what he had done.

It was calming as much as it was alarming. Nights spent in the apartment then were unsettling, and he found himself escaping to Stacey’s place. He met her snakes, immediately adoring them, and then they all went out again. This time, Connor, and some men from the SWAT team joined them. Captain Allen caught his eye in particular.

There was something familiar about him, but yet…  _ Off _ . He carried himself with pride, but yet he wasn’t loud about it. His hair was kept back, yet it was pressed, and 900 liked it, but thought something could be done. He was strong, but there was something  _ missing. _

[Some̵̮͈͂̇on̴̺̈́͜e’s M̵̬̈́̀ï̴͖ͅš̷̞̩si̶̲̔͘ng]

  
  


It drove him nuts, and he called the night early then, heading back to his apartment to de-stress. He assured Connor and Stacey he was fine, looking at the corruption, now at sixty-two percent. 

It was another night of looking around the apartment he discovered a set of movies under the tv stand.  _ ‘Venom’ _ ,  _ ‘Alien’ _ ,  _ ‘Apollo 13’ _ and other horror and action movies lined the shelves, and 900 picked up the one still sticking out.  _ ‘Venom’ _ incited a slew of pressure against the corruption, and he was curious as to why.

So he played the movie, Doa curled up in his lap and Bastard on the back of the couch. He found himself smiling at the main character almost immediately. Loud, confident, determined, stubborn. He was much different than himself already and it was fun to watch. Even when he fucked up, 900 enjoyed his reactions. 

It all felt familiar in the faintest way, but the movie was definitely one he’d watch again. He tried the  _ ‘Apollo 13’ _ movie and quickly dipped out, not enjoying the horror aspect whatsoever. He called it a night after that, falling asleep quickly.

  
  


The next day was normal as they all were. 900 waved to Tina and Stacey, getting waves back and ‘good morning’s. He talked with Connor briefly when he came in, though Hank still refused to say much to him. As he sat down, he frowned seeing the lack of cases and did as he normally did- checked to see what Detective Reed had left behind. There were only three cases left, so he took a breath and started.

The first two had nothing to continue them, dead ends that seemed to be just gang-related causes. It wasn’t until noon that he tackled Reed’s last case.

Or rather,  _ their _ last case. He wasn’t blind, he noticed his own name on the cases. But he had no memory of any of them, until this one. Reading through it, he remembered the case notes on the desk in the apartment, putting them together. Stray notes he found there suddenly made sense, and everything clicked together and washed over him.

  
  


A series of four bodies, three androids, one human, three crime scenes. Chasing down a car only to lose it to a crash. Late night stakeout, him and a static laced voice. Warmth over his hand.

[Some̵̮͈͂̇on̴̺̈́͜e’s M̵̬̈́̀ï̴͖ͅš̷̞̩si̶̲̔͘ng]

[Some̵̮͈͂̇on̴̺̈́͜e’s M̵̬̈́̀issi̶̲̔͘ng]

[Someone’s Missing]

  
  


Canvasing the building. And then, nothing. There were no more notes. They were to canvas the building, and the case stopped there. He couldn’t find any more info on it either, the case just  _ stopped. _ It was frustrating. He felt cheated. He didn’t know why he felt cheated. But this was his case- why couldn’t he finish it?

He wheeled over to Connor, waiting for a moment to get his attention. Hank, for the briefest moment, seemed surprised at the fact he was speaking out loud. “Connor, can I have your assistance with this case?”

“Wow, you’re asking  _ me _ for help, Mr. Cyberlife’s finest?” The comment left 900 confused, tilting his head like he saw done by Connor many times, but blinking and pursing his lips as well. “Oh… Uh… Right.” Connor looked away, a sheepish smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes.

“What do you need help with?”

  
  


900 extended his hand, the skin pulling back, and he focused on the black chassis. He knew it was there, it was a part of him. But yet, the look of it- it tugged on wires subtly, like a phantom feeling of secondhand shame. He figured it was related to his previous hangups, but he moved past that feeling.

Curiosity burned him to know  _ why. _ Connor’s eyes widened for a moment before he accepted the interface with a soft smile. That immediately fell, eyes set in a hard line as he looked back up. “Why were you looking at that case?”

900 wasn’t sure why or even  _ whom _ that anger was directed at, but Connor was definitely angry. “It had my name on it? Or rather, my model number. I was reading over back-logs for cases.” Connor sighed, and just like that the case updated.

It was passed over to Connor and Hank. Two days before he woke up in the repair room. He didn’t bother to hide the narrowed eyes at that. “You were down, and so is Detective Reed. We quickly stepped in to close the case as a joint investigation effort, so you’d both get credit. I’m sorry you had to read over that.”

  
  


Memories pressed through the corruption.  _ “This will be it- maybe we’ll get a week off for this one!” “That would be nice.” _ A smile set in stubble. It was phantom memories that glitched when he tried to grasp them. It hurt. It was frustrating. He quit trying, instead nodding.

“Then I’m out of work to do. What do you suggest?”

Connor shrugged at first. “Maybe you can go on patrol with someone?” That seemed reasonable, yet it still bothered him. However, he didn’t want to risk that corruption getting loose right now. He let it go, and figured out someone he could pair with to go on patrol.

In the end, he spent the day with another android officer, Curt, and while the guy was loud and out there, he was much more interested in running the conversation rather than holding one. It at least kept 900 busy thinking.

  
  


The next few days passed like this. He hung out with Allen, Connor, Stacy and Tina- and he found he liked hanging out with the small group, occasionally Hank joining in. Eventually, Hank finally spoke with him. It was stilted, unsure, but it was a start, one 900 appreciated. They talked about different action movies they liked, and it was nice.

Turned out, 900 liked hanging out with everyone, liked being out and about, getting to do things. He thought he would be more of a loner, but with the girls and Connor’s help, he found himself easily talking with others. He ignored the fear reaction he occasionally got, and instead found confidence in his different traits, even showing off a bit. 

And 900 just… Existed. Without any of Detective Reed’s cases, the corruption lowered naturally. The words stuck, but they didn’t bother him. What did bother him was his name.

  
  


It was long and… So machine like. Yes, he knew, he was an android, but even he got tired of introducing himself as RK900. “Connor,” he started, finishing up paperwork idly. He didn’t look over, but he caught the resulting hum, the sound of a chair being turned. “Which one do you like more… Richard, Niles, or-  _ pfft _ \- Conrad?” Looking over, he couldn’t hide the toothy grin.

Connor lit up, instantly catching onto the reasoning for the question. Then his mouth fell to a little gasp. “Why did you make a noise at Conrad?”

“Because it’s  _ Con _ , but more  _ rad _ than you.” Hank groaned, and mentally he already crossed out that name. Even before Connor let out a long-suffering sigh.

“No. Just- no… Richard though, Richard sounds decent… You got a last name in mind too?” He shrugged at that, not thinking that far ahead yet.

“My model number will do for now. But yeah… Richard… I think- I think I’d like to be called Richard from now on.”

  
  


It was Hank to make the nickname first, casually, and he knew he made the right choice. “Alright Rich, now get the fuck back to work before I throw another eraser at Connor to get him to focus.” Richard laughed at that, and like that, he sent the proper notification into Fowler.

There was no fuss either. He told Stacey and Tina of his new name, and he expected the sad smile from Tina. Yet she moved on too, congratulating Richard for his choice. Richard “RK900”. Detective Richard.

He didn’t stop smiling even as he waved to Kyle, even as he went into an apartment that wasn’t just his, but never stopped feeling like home. He brought over a purple blanket to the couch after taking care of the cats, and watched some storm movie Hank suggested.

  
  


The next day, he knew he downright grinned when someone said  _ ‘morning Rich,’ _ like it was how it always had been.  _ ‘It wasn’t,’ _ entered his thoughts unbidden, but he ignored it. Because it was now, he was Richard now. He stopped into the breakroom, determined to get a drink and catch the morning news.

Then his body malfunctioned.

[Cor̴̯̓rup̷̃͒tion̸̾͐ In M̷͘emo̷̾͋ry Cỏ̵̝re:̸̓̚ 12%]

“One of the suspects from the building explosion…” He remembered it, the video on the screen so much clearer in his vision.

  
  


They went in through the front, his head turned, facing Detective Reed-  _ no _ \- facing  _ his partner. _ The man’s confident grin, like nothing could hurt him. Could hurt them.  _ “Not while we’re together, right Terminator?” _ They went in, they went in and he couldn’t shake the feeling of something not being quite right.

Too quiet,  _ ‘don’t the movies warn about that?’ _ , too quiet and they separated.  _ “Never leave my side, you hear me?! I won’t lose you too! I can’t lose another partner.” _ It was a horrible idea to separate. His hand dropped, the sound of water never reaching his audio receptors.

Too busy with the strain. The sound of someone shouting. Screaming. And then,  _ the explosion. _ Slowly travelling through the building. His partner was in the other room. Why did the only thing that matter was saving him? Why did he stop caring when he realized he couldn’t?  _ “GAVIN!” _

  
  


“Nines- shit, I mean- Rich?” The name synchronized, the drink he was holding laid on the floor.

“The other two, suspected of reselling the body parts, will be arraigned at a later date.” The news continued, and he saw there the image of an ambulance. Hank’s car. Hank’s voice, right beside him.

_ “Nines.” “Hey Nines!” “Nines, come on!” _

_ “RK900 is too fucking long don’t you think? … Hey, how about Nines? And you let me know when you come up with something better.” _

  
  


“Rich?” Richard looked at Hank, the name  _ Nines _ replaying in his head. In everyone’s voices, but namely one detective’s.

“Nines- was my name, wasn’t it?” Hank swallowed hard, looking back as if Connor himself would swoop in with a newspaper and beat him with it.

“It was… It’s not anymore, but yeah, it was.” Hank’s voice was quiet, mourning and regretful. “I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories, just slipped. Really, you are Rich to me now. You’re you.” Richard reached out, his hand on Hank’s shoulder, offering him a kind smile.

One that seemed to work. “I am me, and even knowing what I used to be won’t change that. That’s all I hope you expect from me.” Hank nodded, sighing a bit.

“I don’t expect you to be who you were before, I know. Sorry that I messed up though.”

  
  


“It’s alright. Give me a hand? I don’t think it would be a  _ grape _ idea for Connor to see this mess.” Hank snorted, and they set about cleaning it quietly. His corruption was at a  _ two _ . The slightest push would show him everything. What he used to be- who  _ Nines _ was.

Who actually died in that explosion. But he wanted to know one thing first. Who was  _ Detective Reed. _ And  _ where _ was he. His systems burned, need to know pouring through the corruption, glitched and broken feelings confusing him but all he could figure out was that he had to know.

He couldn’t rest until he knew why Nines’ last memories were reaching for the detective in another room as a building fell around them. “Do you know where Connor is? I do have questions now- don’t worry, I won’t mention you.” Hank nodded, pointing over to the desks.

“You might want to talk  _ privately _ for this one.”

  
  


Richard nodded, and walked out, messaging Connor as he went to the alleyway outside for this.  _ [Connor, we need to talk. Could you come out to the alleyway, or would you rather talk like this?] _

_ [I can come out.] _ It wasn’t even two minutes before the other joined him. Richard remained against the wall, looking to the bustling street. His memories reminded him that Nines liked being on the rooftop. That Detective Reed showed him a spot up there that you could see down the whole one road.

He liked being down here though, where everyone was close enough to see their expressions. No one expected him here, and he guessed no one suspected him up there either.

Similarities, but not exactly the same. Two different paths taken, and he was Richard. “Rich?”

  
  


Turning to Connor, he was the one to offer the sad smile he saw directed at himself too many times. “Where’s Detective Reed, Connor? I- I know- mostly know- who I was before. I was- I was Nines. Some things are coming back to me, but it’s so- odd. I know I liked those things before, but I don’t like them as much now. I like- well, what I like… But I have to know, something in me has to know… Who was Detective Reed, and where is he now?”

_ ‘Did I fail?’ _ The thought was a nail being hammered into his thirium pump, close to shattering it. He knew  _ he _ didn’t fail, if a failure occurred, but rather Nines did. Still, he was at one point Nines. He felt responsible, even as Richard now.

“He’s- Rich, I can’t answer that. You’ll have to find that one out on your own, I’m sorry. I’d tell you, if I could, but I… I wasn’t close to him like Nines was.”  _ Like Nines was. _ Even Connor now referred to Nines as someone else and it was… Relieving. To acknowledge that who he was now isn’t who he was before.

  
  


“How was Nines close to him?” Connor swallowed, entirely human, and Richard felt bad when his face defaulted, LED glitching to blue and stress level rising a bit.

“Ga- Detective Reed- he was your- he was  _ Nines’ _ partner. That’s why you share his apartment, that’s why you had cases with him, that’s why…” His lips froze in place, and his stress skyrocketed. Richard stepped forward, hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“The corruption from the previous memory core, the archived updates- they’re practically uncorrupted. I’m going over the info tonight… I just, I wanted to know if you knew what happened to  _ him _ .”

“I’m sorry, I don’t… The only person who can find out, besides Fowler which… He hasn’t spoken to  _ anyone _ … The only person who can know is you, Rich. You’re one of Detective Reed’s emergency contacts.” Blinking at that, he got the idea. He’d have to go through the memories to figure it all out.

  
  


“Thank you… I want you to know that- Nines he’s…”

“He’s dead.” The way Connor said it, the default mode breaking, a sad smile and  _ guilty _ look, it hurt Richard. “He’s been dead for a while, and I knew that. I knew the day after you came back to work. You were becoming, well, you. Nines- wasn’t coming back. And I’m ok with that- I’m sorry, because it still feels like- a part of me failed you, but you’re right here and I’m happy for you at the same time… I guess that doesn’t make sense?”

Richard pulled Connor into a stiff hug, quickly pulling back after. “It does, and you didn’t fail. You still saved  _ someone _ , even if it wasn’t who you were expecting. I’m grateful. And I hope whatever we had before we can have again. You’ve basically been like family to me, Connor.”

“Well good, because you’re my big- little brother still. I’m glad to have you here, Rich.”

“I know you are.”

“Oh you are such a shit!” Connor’s laugh was bright, and Richard led the way back in, glad to lessen his stress levels. He had a lot to explain, and it would be a long day full of pain, but he wanted to put  _ Nines _ to rest, once and for all.

  
  


Stacey and Hank were first. Stacey took it well, she knew like Connor what had happened. She was grateful to have him back at all, and to have the chance to be friends again. Hank… He was still grieving, Richard could tell, but he tried his best to comfort him, and in the end left it to Connor. Parts of his memory revolving around the man were still missing, but he knew the words hit much more personally than he let on.

Tina was the hardest. She tried, Richard could see just how hard she tried, to move on. And she was, she was accepting, but she was still grieving. So it hurt worse when he had to ask where Detective Reed was. She broke then, and Richard apologized, but Stacey gently led her away.  _ [She’ll be fine Richie, she just needs some time. She lost a lot too… When you remember fully you’ll understand. She still likes you Rich, don’t worry.] _

Stacey’s message was supposed to be comforting, but he only felt at a loss. The only part of before he couldn’t remember was himself and the detective. It was frustrating. 

  
  


Getting home, the corruption was cleared.

[Someone’s Missing]

The words still remained though, brighter than ever, seared into his HUD.

[>>Open Previous Memory Core files? Y/N]

[ - Yes]

  
  


He sat down before he ran the command, facing the photos on the screen, Doa on his lap and Bastard beside him on the window sill. The photos in front of him, foreign, far away feeling, standing in place of what might as well have been a fictional character to him. But real, real as the cloudy sky that casted dull light into the room.

And then the command ran through. He was flooded with memories. Meeting Detective Reed, hostility turning to rivalry turning to friendship. Spilled coffee and thrown cups. Attempt fights- succeeded fights. Underestimating and overestimating. Olive branches turning into sitting together on a couch, making fun of movies Richard couldn’t even watch alone now. Of sarcastic, dry humor meeting the human’s sharp tongue, of thinly veiled threats turning into quietly whispered promises. Threatening turning teasing. But all from his perspective. He saw who Nines became, because of reacting to  _ Detective Reed. _

The memories of Detective Reed were unclear without the emotion behind them. Some completely encrypted, being unreachable, knowledge only  _ Nines _ was privy to. He could assume that Nines developed something for him, it was evident in the way that his tone changed, that he changed. But the feelings didn’t come with the memories. He deleted the encrypted files, knowing he wouldn’t break through them within the next year, not since Nines made them himself.

  
  


However, what came with the memories was  _ understanding. _ Especially in the most recent of them, he saw a Detective Reed that adapted, that didn’t want to be hostile, that wanted to change. He saw change, and he wanted to know the Detective Reed that existed now. He wanted to know him as Richard.

Fear crept into his thoughts, that he’d be rejected, for not being Nines. Because he wasn’t. Nines was  _ gone _ . Then he remembered,  _ Reed _ could be gone too.

Before he could drag himself out of the memories, he looked at the most recent photo.

  
  


A teenager. A teenager hanging out in the play area of some kid’s place, they had a gun with his prints on it used in a recent shooting. No one was killed, just grazed, and they doubted the teenager actually meant to hit anyone. But the kid ran, vaulting over what looked like a small jump.

It turned out to be a crash landing through several jungle gym obstacles into a ball pit, taking the already torn up detective for a ride while Nines sighed and smiled at his lack of foresight. Nines met him at the bottom, and Gavin was just grinning, more amused with everything than he needed to be. He was hurt, but yet, with the kids around, he didn’t want to scare them.  _ “Nines, did you get that on camera? See kids,  _ that’s _ how a real superhero makes a landing!” _

The kids had cheered, and Nines helped Gavin out of the pit. Then, the briefest kiss was delivered to Nines’ cheek, leaving a faint red on it.  _ “Thanks, hero.” _

  
  


The memory hurt, because it confirmed everything he feared and  _ wanted _ . Detective Reed was in love with  _ Nines _ . And Richard doubted it would carry over. But everything in him wanted that, wanted that trust, that confidence. He was handsome, goofy, stubborn, determined… Traits he already liked, as  _ Richard _ . 

Everything hurt, and that night he held Doa closer, laying on the couch. He knew what his next move was, but he was  _ afraid _ .

Nines was dead, and here Richard was, living in his place. And Detective Reed was nowhere to be seen.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t easy to find the detective. Richard got a new case the next day, and between that and the brief awkwardness from the day before, nothing got done. He wasn’t giving up though. At home he continued to look, starting with the obvious and asking different hospitals.

It was three days before he finally found Reed, and he requested the next day off immediately. He just- had to see him. Had to make sure he was  _ alive _ , if nothing else. No, he didn’t have feelings for the man, besides the want to know him, but it still felt  _ important _ .

Getting to the hospital was easy. Getting his info through was easy too. Actually being able to see Reed was a whole ‘nother ordeal. The doctors in no short terms told him the process up until this point. He was alive, but they weren’t sure if he’d stay that way. Three weeks of surgeries and monitoring, and there were still not enough signs to say that he’d make it.

  
  


Actually seeing  _ Gavin _ broke him. More memories flooded him, a full profile of the man filled out in his vision, including his likes, dislikes, every single thing he did to influence  _ Nines’ _ life. And yet, looking at him, tubes hanging from him, eyes closed, bruised and bandaged, Richard felt… He felt bad, sure. This was a coworker. A friend, hopefully. Someone he lived with, and would work with. Someone that he had trusted before and could hopefully trust again.

But he wasn’t anything  _ more _ to him. He felt bad, but there was no violent reaction. No pushing to see him. He watched enough movies to know what the doctor’s expected, and politely explained what had happened as well. The files were updated,  _ ‘Nines’ RK900 _ becoming  _ Richard RK900 _ until Gavin changed it otherwise.

He did notice, as he watched bandages be changed, that the two words stuck with him dimmed, but they didn’t go out.

[Someone’s Missing]

  
  


Gavin was. He knew it, he knew this was the dying remnant of Nines’ memories begging to be resolved. The last wish of someone dead. It was painful in the way a movie was, to see a character’s last pleading words cry out to an abyss, knowing they’d never return. Je felt his face drop, but there was nothing more that he could do besides hope to carry out Nines’ last task.

  
Gavin may not have been the world to him, but he had been the world to someone. In the pain of knowing that, Richard continued.   
  


He went to work the next day and relayed the condition, the change, and the lack of change. He was still Richard, and he wanted to move on. Tina approached him, around the end of the workday, Hank and Connor off on a case. She grabbed Reed’s empty chair and wheeled it over. “Hey Rich,” she started, and he couldn’t stop the scan. She was tired, emotionally so, but at least she seemed able to talk to him again.

“Hey, is everything alright? Whatever it is, I swear I didn’t do it- I may have thought of it, but I didn’t do it.” The smile was worth it, as she looked up at him.

  
  


“No no, it’s nothing like that… I’m just- I’m wondering… If- by some miracle,” her voice dropped and Richard was bad with people, he was still working on that, but even he could tell where hope was lost in that voice. “He makes it out of there… What happens then? What will you do?”

It was a fair question, and Richard turned his terminal off, finishing up his work. “Try.” She looked confused for a moment, so Richard faced her, ready for this. He honestly wanted an opinion too. “I want to try again. From the memories I’ve gotten back, and the way you all view him, Detective Reed has changed since the time I’ve been here. He’s someone who’s loyal, stubborn, determined, loud, fun to be with, and overall someone who won’t back down from anything. He’s- he’s someone I’d like to know again.”

He looked to the empty desk, the barely faded words in his HUD. “I understand though, if he doesn’t want to know me now. I have the face of someone that was obviously close to him, to everyone here, and I won’t force him, or anyone, to accept me. I’m glad you and everyone else has. If he chooses to push me out, I will accept this, and move on. I just… I’d like to try again, I’d like to get to know Detective Reed, and I’d like to have that friendship he had with Nines.”

  
  


There was silence for a few moments, and when he braved looking up, Tina was smiling. Softly, but it met her eyes this time. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. I can’t guarantee he’ll accept that either- you know what Nines meant to him… I don’t- I can’t remember a time when anyone meant as much as he did to him… Just- don’t lie to him. Tell him outright, he- he deserves to know.”

“Of course, I will. Now, if you don’t mind, this case is  _ screwing _ with me.” Just to be a shit, he picked up a loose screw he had found off his desk, tossing it lightly towards Tina. Of course, she laughed, a small one but it was enough. “I’m going to go cuddle with the cats. You’re welcome to come over if you like?”

“That… That sounds fun actually. I’ll see if Stacey wants to join us.” He nodded, and grabbed the coat. It was a nice coat, and memories of getting it flooded him.  _ “You’re not anyone’s property. You can wear whatever you want.” _ Yet he didn’t want to wear it. This was  _ Nines’ _ . He folded the coat, tucking it into Connor’s desk before joining the other’s, already looking for a new one.

  
  


A few days passed when it came in. It was different, just slightly. It was a leather jacket, white with black insides and black sleeves. Sleek looking, he liked it. It went with the purple shirts he liked to wear, and wasn’t restrictive. Hank’s comment on Richard getting a bike sparked a few ideas, and he looked into saving up for one.

It was a week later when everything settled down. Routine was nice, though he was tired more often than not. He found out actually working  _ with _ people wasn’t his strong suit, and that he couldn’t comfort a crying puppy let alone girlfriend.

He had plans for the weekend at least. Stacey and  _ Hank _ out of all people encouraged him to head out and try to find some friends outside of the precinct. He admitted he didn’t want to go alone, so it was supposed to be him, Stacey, and Tina heading out on Friday night.

  
  


Thursday night he settled on the couch, petting Doa lazily as he watched some Dateline.  _ [I’m just saying Rich, you’d love ice skating.] _

_ [Skidding across frozen water with the potential of landing on my face seems very fun.] _

_ [No need to be sarcastic.] _

Richard smiled as he could almost hear the pout in Connor’s voice. Connor wanted him to get some hobbies besides petting the cats, and while he looked at the instruments in the spare room, neither of them really fit  _ him _ . He scanned Reed’s fingerprints on the guitar, memories of the man playing it when he thought Nines’ wasn’t home coming to him, but he couldn’t see himself playing a  _ keyboard _ of all things. Though the guitar didn’t feel off either, just not… Exactly his style. He wanted to look more into that.

  
  


But besides cleaning and occasionally singing along to some rap songs, he didn’t really have a hobby yet. But ice skating definitely wasn’t it.  _ [I’m just saying. I’m built like a tank, not a ballerina.] _

_ [Ok. Fair. Maybe something more physical. Have you thought of gardening?] _

_ [I killed your one succulent.] _

_ [Right. We’ll figure something out.] _

_ [I know we will.] _

He smiled despite it, and just to appease Connor, he started to look into different hobbies. He thought about asking for a trip to the library when he heard the door unlock.

  
  


Immediately, he was alert. Tina and Stacey always messaged first, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. Not today at least. He didn’t need to reach for a gun, just setting Doa aside as he stared at the door. It unlocked slowly, like someone was struggling with it, and then when the door opened with a groan, Richard’s thirium pump froze for a moment.

Staggered heavy steps were overshadowed by Doa’s loud howling, bouncing off the couch and over to the source of the sound. Richard himself stood, purple blanket sliding onto the couch, and he watched the crutched form of Gavin Reed slowly make its way into the apartment. “Hey baby.”

The man’s voice was rough, quiet and scratchy from disuse, yet nothing mattered more than it. The two words finally disappeared, and Richard felt at  _ ease _ finally. Something settled so deep within himself that he couldn’t find it in him to be afraid of the future.

  
  


Grey eyes looked up eventually, and the memory of the ballpit came to him, faded but there. Those eyes were warm but hesitant. Richard didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to see that warmth die.

But he wanted  _ Richard _ to be friends with Gavin. He wanted to be the one Gavin trusted. So he took a breath, knowing he looked so familiar to what Gavin expected. But he could tell when the familiarity stopped, seeing confusion in that smile.

“Hello, Detective Reed. It’s- nice to finally meet you again.”


End file.
